The sleepy little castle town of Carcassonne awakened early. From nearby villages came donkey carts laden with produce. In the air were sounds of wooden wheels; of bleating goats and braying donkeys trotting into market. By the time the church bells began ringing for the morning Angelus, merchants emerged like insects and commenced shouting their wares. At once, the soft hubbub of noises turned into an almost deafening cacophony of sounds. Another uneventful day in Carcassonne has begun.

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She will kill herself today, she has decided. She made that decision while Uncle Raymond was still spurting his foul seed inside her, his eyes closed in blissful orgasm.

With just a few more thrusts, her daily descent to hell was over. Sex with Uncle Raymond was always a speedy affair; one of the very few things in life she’s still thankful for.

“You’re the only woman who can make my limbs tremble with so much pleasure, my dear.” Count Raymond-Bernard Trencavel, now standing beside the wooden bed and fully-clothed, smiled softly, the hint of suppressed lust still hovering over his quivering lips. Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Prologue”→

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Her name was Maria and she was one of the strongest woman I ever knew.

John Travolta once said, “They say the hardest thing in the world is losing a parent. I can now say that isn’t true. The hardest thing in the world is losing a child. Someone you raised and watched grow every day. Someone you taught how to walk and talk. Someone you showed how to love. It’s the worst thing to ever happen to anyone,”

Maria lost five of her 11 children while she lived. One can only imagine the unbearable pain and suffering she had to endure everyday of her life. Losing a child is devastating. But losing five of them? It’s beyond grief.

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I woke up from my slumber half dizzy and disoriented. Worse, I felt numb all over, like I’d just been given a one-liter shot of anesthesia. And as I tried to turn my head to the glass-paned window where the soft glimmer of the afternoon sun was seeping through, a thousand needles seemed to stab my whole body with varying intensity, making me wince from the sudden jolt of pain. Continue reading “Where in the World is Pagbabangnan?”→

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Yes, if you’re in the Philippines. It’s a kind of Filipinoism that is generally accepted in informal conversations. There’s a popular saying that goes: ‘Don’t problem your problem. Let your problem problem your problem.’ The use of ‘problem’ as a verb, however, is frowned upon in formal writing and would probably get you a failing grade if you include it in your college essay.